Wednesday, October 07, 2015

Man's best friend is an awesome spectacle. He protects your home. He barks at canines ten times his size with no fear, until and unless they get up close and personal and common sense takes over. He's proud and independent, except when he isn't. But there is a dignity in being part of the pack, and I question whether or not it's damaged when he's wearing a shirt emblazoned with the picture to the left.

Last week my wife and daughter decided to go to Florida to see Mickey Mouse, and some other friends. It was kind of a win-win for them because I had to work, and consequently there was someone to care for the pooch. So he and I, just a couple of wild and crazy guys, spent the week together. As a gift, my daughter bought him that shirt.

I don't know. I mean, it's actually true. Julio adores my daughter, and every time she walks through the door he jumps up and down, runs in circles, and appears to be on the verge of a massive coronary. I come in and he's like, "Oh. It's you. Yeah, I guess you can give me some food. Yeah, I guess you can take me out a few times. Maybe I'll let you take me in the yard so I can run around like a total maniac while you have no hope whatsoever of catching me."

Anyway, I thought the t-shirt was a little much, but I didn't pay a whole lot of mind. But on Sunday, we went to Petco, where a young trainer is trying to explain to us how not to have Julio run around like a total maniac while we have no hope whatsoever of catching him. (Yes, I'm a teacher, so of course I take my dog to school. And don't go giving me any guff about how it's a private school. Today, in 2015, there are still no public schools for dogs, and if there were the Koch Brothers would be donating millions to crush them.)

What really irked me was when we were leaving the class there was a new class coming in. There, Julio ran into another dog who looked very much like him, but was wearing some kind of tutu. For me, that was beyond the pale, but my daughter was all, "Oh, look, how cute!" I said, "Well, I'm not walking him if you dress him like that."

The woman with the dog said, "My husband doesn't mind walking him when he's dressed like that." I retorted, "I'm not her husband," which I suppose gives me that right to decline walking a dog in a tutu. Julio's a macho little guy. Now, if she'd dress him in a black leather jacket and sunglasses, and get him a little motorcycle I could see it. This would be a win-win, in my opinion, because with the motorcycle he might not need to be walked at all. I mean, who puts a leash on a dog with a motorcycle?

Anyway, in my opinion, just because you're a dog doesn't mean anyone has the right to dress you in a tutu. There are limits, and there is common decency. The United States may treat teachers like dogs, but that doesn't give us the right to treat dogs like that.

Man's best friend is an awesome spectacle. He protects your home. He barks at canines ten times his size with no fear, until and unless they get up close and personal and common sense takes over. He's proud and independent, except when he isn't. But there is a dignity in being part of the pack, and I question whether or not it's damaged when he's wearing a shirt emblazoned with the picture to the left.

Last week my wife and daughter decided to go to Florida to see Mickey Mouse, and some other friends. It was kind of a win-win for them because I had to work, and consequently there was someone to care for the pooch. So he and I, just a couple of wild and crazy guys, spent the week together. As a gift, my daughter bought him that shirt.

I don't know. I mean, it's actually true. Julio adores my daughter, and every time she walks through the door he jumps up and down, runs in circles, and appears to be on the verge of a massive coronary. I come in and he's like, "Oh. It's you. Yeah, I guess you can give me some food. Yeah, I guess you can take me out a few times. Maybe I'll let you take me in the yard so I can run around like a total maniac while you have no hope whatsoever of catching me."

Anyway, I thought the t-shirt was a little much, but I didn't pay a whole lot of mind. But on Sunday, we went to Petco, where a young trainer is trying to explain to us how not to have Julio run around like a total maniac while we have no hope whatsoever of catching him. (Yes, I'm a teacher, so of course I take my dog to school. And don't go giving me any guff about how it's a private school. Today, in 2015, there are still no public schools for dogs, and if there were the Koch Brothers would be donating millions to crush them.)

What really irked me was when we were leaving the class there was a new class coming in. There, Julio ran into another dog who looked very much like him, but was wearing some kind of tutu. For me, that was beyond the pale, but my daughter was all, "Oh, look, how cute!" I said, "Well, I'm not walking him if you dress him like that."

The woman with the dog said, "My husband doesn't mind walking him when he's dressed like that." I retorted, "I'm not her husband," which I suppose gives me that right to decline walking a dog in a tutu. Julio's a macho little guy. Now, if she'd dress him in a black leather jacket and sunglasses, and get him a little motorcycle I could see it. This would be a win-win, in my opinion, because with the motorcycle he might not need to be walked at all. I mean, who puts a leash on a dog with a motorcycle?

Anyway, in my opinion, just because you're a dog doesn't mean anyone has the right to dress you in a tutu. There are limits, and there is common decency. The United States may treat teachers like dogs, but that doesn't give us the right to treat dogs like that.

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Views expressed herein are solely those of the author or authors, and do not reflect views of my employers, the United Federation of Teachers, or any UFT union caucus.

Stories herein containing unnamed or invented characters are works of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.